


Regrets and Revenge

by SeptiKatiplier



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Almost smut, Angst, Danti - Freeform, Fights, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Knife Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Miscommunication, Septiplier - Freeform, Shock Collar Kink, Suggestive, Swearing, yes I know those tags conflict, you will understand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptiKatiplier/pseuds/SeptiKatiplier
Summary: [Non-YouTube AU]Mark thought ending his relationship with Jack would fix things. He thought it would help. But if anything, it's made him feel even more terrible than before. No matter what he does, they will still judge him, hate him, avoid him.Unbeknownst to Mark, Jack is going through a challenging phase with the darkness within him. This darkness has only strengthened as his relationship with Mark weakened. He can't ignore the whispers of violence and the cravings for revenge anymore.He's going to regret it later, but maybe succumbing to his demons won't be so bad if he knows Mark will be hurting as much as Jack did when this is all over.





	1. Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> First Danti fic! I don't like this one as much as the other Septiplier stuff I've posted but I've decided, why the hell not. So here it is, for your enjoyment or disappointment, I don't know.

Mark lay upon his bed, finding himself unable to sleep. The ceiling wasn't very fascinating, but he kept staring at it for lack of better things to do.

Jack kept coming up in his mind. The Irishman's ocean blue eyes that had been glistening with tears when he realized Mark was breaking up with him. The cute smile he had when Mark told jokes, the one that he'd likely never see again. His normally energetic persona that seemed to have been completely dispersed once he had uttered the words of departure.

It wasn't that Mark wanted to leave Jack. But dating a man has been so awkward, so degrading. He could practically feel people judging him whenever he held hands with his now-ex-boyfriend in public. Their disapproval was evident. He felt like the world now hated him, and he simply couldn't be with Jack anymore.

He had astonished himself by how easy it was to tell him goodbye. Perhaps he had been forcing himself because Jack had seemed so attached to him, so determined to impress him. He didn't want to make him sad, but it turns out that Mark had hurt him more in the end. Now, it seemed like Jack was the one who hates him...

Tap. That damn tapping at the window. It had been persistent, demanding. Ever since the day he ended things with Jack, there had been a tap. Mark didn't know if he was going insane or not.

Prior to tonight, Mark had gotten up and checked the window, and there was nothing. Then the tapping ceased for the rest of the night. But now, he decided to lie in wait, to see if the tapping would continue.

Click. The click of the lock on the window. He must be imagining things, for the lock could only be opened from the inside, and Mark was quite positive that there was no one else in the room.

Scrape. The glass of the window scraped against the wooden frames, and it was lifted. A figure, whose face was covered in shadow, stood right there. Mark must be hallucinating.

A soft green glow originated from where the figure's left eye should be. He blinked quickly, unsure if it were a trick of the light or not, and the figure could no longer be seen.

All was quiet for a moment, except for a sharp gust of wind that flowed through the open window and sent a shiver into Mark's body.

Flick. He was blinded for a moment as the light switch had been flicked, and he had not been prepared for the sudden bright light.

Once Mark had adjusted, it was clear that the figure was sitting right across from him, on his bed.

The figure was a man, whose skin was grayish and pale. His lips were drawn back in a sneer, revealing rather sharp triangular teeth. His hair was brown on the sides, and the top was dyed a dark green and spiked up. He had black gages in his ears, and a green and black hoodie paired with dark ripped skinny jeans. Dried blood was crusted on his cheek, and it looked like it originated from his eyes. The most notable thing about his appearance was the color of the eyes: one soft, blue, innocent right eye, and the piercing fluorescent green of his left eye.

"Hello Mark," spoke the man. There was a rather distorted, robotic tone to his voice, but there was also a startlingly familiar Irish accent.

"Wha… Jack?" questioned Mark, uncertainty lacing his tone.

The man laughed loudly. It was sinister, dark, and nothing like Jack's laugh. This wasn't Jack.

"I'm afraid not."

"T-Then who are you?"

"I... am a darker version of your Jack," the being mused, tilting his head to one side. "You wouldn't know me. But he does." He let out a short laugh. "He knows me well, but he chooses to never speak about me. He is ashamed of me. And he has finally succumbed to me, as a result of your actions.

"Poor little Jack was heart broken from learning you cared nothing for him. He was in such a state of mind that all it took was simple whispers of encouragement from me, some convincing. He hardly resisted as I consumed his mind. Oh, and he wanted me to hurt you, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to hurt someone, could I?"

Mark could form no words. This was hardly believable. Demons and spirits and all that crap... they weren't real.

"I have come to visit every night this week. You always heard me and came to shoo me away... But tonight… is different." The demon raised a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "You did not check the window, and I decided that was an invitation to come in," he said, a soft chuckle following his words.

"So now..." A sinister-looking knife that Mark knew hadn't been there before was now tightly grasped in the dark being's hand. Dried blood ran up and down the sides. "Where should I start? Would you prefer shoulder, knee, or ankle? You'll hurt the most, but you'll bleed less, and I like a clean torture."

The terrified human backed as far away as he could in the bed, which didn't change much. The demon only moved closer, his pale, unsightly face now inches from Mark's.

 _Help!_ he cried out in his mind as the demon's forearm rammed against his throat, pinning him to the backboard of the bed. He raised the knife, and the anticipation crawled in Mark's skin.

 _If you wish._ A different voice rumbled in Mark's mind, one that he was instantly filled with dread at the sound of. But now Dark had been summoned, and there was no turning back.

Demon Jack pressed the knife to Mark's shoulder, but a strong grip around his wrist stopped him from dealing any damage. Surprised, he looked up into "Mark"'s eyes, which now resembled voids of emptiness, with tiny white dots were pupils should be. They were full of pure anger.

In an instant, he was thrown across the room. He crashed against the wall and sank to the floor. Huffing in annoyance, he glared at what used to be Mark.

His hair was still a fiery red, but it was slicked to one side. A spiked choker covered his throat, and two complimentary spiked rings encircled his biceps. He wore a simple dark shirt, which was ripped to show his arms and his stomach. Grayish skinny jeans adorned his legs.

"Anti," the newly summoned being remarked cooly.

"Dark," Anti spat, displeased at the sight of the other demon. "Can't you let me have fun for one fuckin' night? Jack rarely gives me these kinds of opportunities."

"You could just take over him forcefully," Dark pointed out, unfathomed by the other demon's hostility.

"That takes too fuckin' long. He's got a real strong mind for a human."

"Weakling."

"You're one to talk. You've never even taken over anyone for more than fifteen fucking minutes," scoffed Anti.

Dark's eyes narrowed. "You haven't either."

The green in the demon's eye flared with dangerous intensity. He bared his teeth. "Yeah? What the fuck d'you think I'm tryin' to do now?"

"You're just being a pussy."

Anti went wild, flying towards Dark at top speed, hands outstretched like claws. He knew it was impossible to kill another demon in this form, but he would sure as hell make him hurt like a motherfucker. 

Pain flared through his stomach as Dark kicked him backwards onto the bed, arms flailing, and pinned him right there on the sheets with his foot. Anti recovered quickly and attempted to wriggle free, as Dark kneeled down on his chest.

Dark suddenly fell onto the bed, into a small green cloud of steam. Anti was simply… gone. Vanished.

"Cowardly son of a bitch," Dark growled to himself. He slowly scanned the room, waiting for him to reappear. He knew he would.

Green smoke suddenly exploded in front of him. Dark flinched and bared his teeth, preparing to attack anything that moved. Without warning, Anti erupted out of the mist, grabbing Dark by the arms and pulling him in close. Without hesitation, he tilted his head and pushed his lips against his fellow demon's.

Dark immediately shoved Anti, flinging him away with a shriek. Anti collided painfully with the wall for the second time that night.

"Owwww!" Anti complained, glancing at the new dent behind him. His eyes found Dark's once more, his expression one of crooked amusement.

"You didn't mean t'do that, didja, Darkipoo?" he crooned, leaning so close to the red head that he could feel his body heat.

"I-" Dark inhaled sharply as Anti's hands were suddenly all over him. One hand was creeping toward the waistband of his jeans, and the other had slipped up his shirt and was roughly playing with his nipple.

"Ah..." The little sound of pleasure escaped Dark's mouth before he could stop it. Anti smirked with satisfaction.

"Oooh, you like that Darky bae?"

Dark growled, and suddenly Anti's back was flat against the bed, with the other being towering over him. Anti felt the cool metal of his shock collar click around his throat, and the remote was pointed directly into his face.

"Daddy Dark, I've been bad, haven't I?" questioned Anti, taking on a lovely innocent tone that he knew Dark loved.

"Yes, you have," Dark growled slowly, his deep voice causing violent shivers to run down Anti's spine. "You've been a very bad boy."

He lowered his head until it was barely an inch away from Anti's own face. His psychopathic smirk was incredibly arousing even to Jack's weak conscience, which was still floating around somewhere in Anti's head.

"And bad boys..." Anti could feel his cold breath on his neck.

"…deserved to be punished," he ended with a light, pleased tone. The remote clicked, and soon Anti was writhing in pain, his screams of ecstasy echoing through the house. It was music to Dark's ears.

***

"Ow... What the fuck?" Mark groaned, shivering slightly as the cold wind drafted in through the open window.

He tried to get up to close it when he noticed there was a weight on his arm. Turning his head, he saw a mess of green hair scattered about his chest, which was clad in... nothing. He was shirtless and…

"Jack?" Mark choked out, a rush of emotions flooding his head instantaneously.

The sleepy man stirred, lazily blinking up at him. "Ah, sorry Mark... Did I fall asleep on ya? Too much drink I guess…"

He frowned. "Wait, I don't remember drinkin' anythin'…"

Jack's eyes were suddenly wide, realization finally laying upon him. "Oh! M-Mark?" he gasped, instantly pushing himself up and relieving the pressure on the Mark's chest.

"'Tis I. Don't ask me what happened, because I don't remember," he said dryly, staring up at the flustered man above him. He, too, was shirtless. That didn't help Mark hold onto his sanity.

"Right. Well…" Jack got off of Mark and attempted to leave the bed. 

"OW! Fuck!" he howled, causing Mark to flinch and curse back. He glared at Jack with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. Jack rubbed at his neck and winced.

"Agh! I-I mean... N-No... I'm fine... Dunno what happened," the man muttered, stiffly getting to his feet. As the blankets fell away, it was revealed that he was also pantsless… and boxerless.

Mark instantly flushed red as his hair and looked away. Jack seemed to realize what he was wearing (or not wearing). Hissing a swear under his breath, he scoured the floor for his clothes and managed to find his boxers and some black ripped skinny jeans. He quickly pulled them on and turned back to Mark, his cheeks a flaming pink.

"We must've, uh, gotten really, really drunk or somethin'," murmured Jack. Mark rubbed at his forehead, wondering if he should trash the mental image of Jack's naked backside or treasure the memory.

"I can't drink, Jack, and you hardly ever get drunk," he reminded him. "Not possible."

"Shite. Then what the fuck…" Something seemed to have clicked in Jack's head, for his blush had vanished and he somehow turned paler than he already was.

"Oh... But he was going to... I told him...then how... fucking dick, shouldn't trust him..."

Mark could make no sense out of the Irishman's ramblings, but felt that Jack needed some serious thinking time.

"Hey, dude, you okay?"

"If I said yes, I'd be lying," Jack admitted. "It's just... Um, I'm gonna go. Can I borrow one o' your shirts?"

"Yeah, hang on." Mark left the bed and approached his closet, terribly self-conscious about the fact that he was only wearing boxers.

He grabbed a random shirt and turned to see Jack staring... down there. Mark coughed awkwardly and threw the shirt at Jack.

"Ah! The f—"

"Here," interrupted Mark. "I really think you should go." He hadn't meant to sound harsh, but he noticed something fade in the Irishman's eyes. Jack pulled the shirt over his torso and left without another word.

Mark didn't do anything until he heard the front door open and close, and there was silence. He exhaled loudly, collapsing back onto his bed. He felt a hard object beneath him.

After feeling around for a minute, he pulled a large shock collar from beneath the covers. His face flushed as he remembered how he had purchased it to satisfy his masochistic needs a long time ago, when... agh. Overcome with embarrassment and discuss, he flung the shock collar away. It made contact with the wall, letting out a loud clunk as it fell to the floor. _Hey, was that dent there before?_


	2. Destroying Himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whupdee frickin doo. A second chapter. Let's see where this goes.
> 
> This one is a bit shorter than the first chapter, I think.

When Jack finally made it home, it was already far too late to get ready for work. It was fairly easy to feign sickness in his call to his manager, as he was already feeling tired and dead.

Mark didn't seem to remember any of their nightly encounters, thank the heavens, but Jack had the misfortune to remember parts. These parts included rather lewd images and sounds that he wished would go the fuck away.

Specifically, circumstances in which he - or Anti, whatever - was being mercilessly tortured by means of electricity. Why Mark owned a shock collar was inexplicable, as he would never use one on his beloved dog.

Jack groaned and studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, cringing at the sight of his bruised and battered neck. It had been swelling up and becoming more visible ever since he got home. Stupid fuckin' shock collar.

Anti seemed to like it though. And that being... The one that suddenly replaced Mark and seemed to be acquainted with Jack's... Alter ego? He wasn't even sure what to call him.

No matter what Anti was, it seemed like Mark had one too. A demon. Sure, whatever.

 _Look at little Jackipoo putting together the pieces of the puzzle,_ Anti's voice echoed in his brain, dripping with sarcasm. Jack could make out the vague smokey figure beside him in the mirror.

"Fuck the fuck off!" Jack groaned, turning to face Anti but seeing nothing. He gave no fucks and proceeded to yell at the shower curtains.

"When I told you to hurt him, or do whatever the hell you do… you... You just had sex with him?!? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

 _There are many things wrong with me… but I did not fuck Mark,_ he said smugly. _I actually didn't fuck anyone. Dark and I did a little foreplay, that's it._

"Who the fuck is Dark? How do you even know him?" Jack demanded, wanting to clear up at least some of his confusion.

_Well, I noticed him stalking Mark on that first date you two lovebirds had._

"Lovebirds?! We're not together anymore, so just shut the fuck up!" Jack could see Anti in his peripheral vision, but didn't try to look at him again. He simply scowled at the tiled floor, mad at himself, mad at Anti, mad at Mark.

_Mmm, so touchous. At least I got him thinking of you. Is that not enough?_

"I didn't ask for you to make him think of me. I... I..." Jack remembered, with a sinking feeling, of how heartbroken he was, and how he had literally begged Anti to simply hurt Mark and make him regret breaking up with him. The whole situation was fucked. It wasn't Anti's fault or Mark's fault. Just his own selfishness and sensitivity was to blame.

Jack sank to his knees, leaning heavily against the sink cupboards. His eyes started to water up, and he furiously wiped at them in anger. He regretted every little bit of what he had with Mark, and what he tried to do when he left him.

He could see why the redhead would dislike him. He caused so much distraught and destruction last night...

 _Melodramatic assbag._ Anti coughed.

"SHUT UP SHITFACE!" Jack shrieked, slamming his fist into the ground. He couldn't find the energy to hold back his tears anymore. They came flowing like a river down his cheeks, soaking the shirt Mark had lended to him. He pulled the shirt off his body, wadded it up and threw it into the bathtub. He didn't want to associate himself with Mark... Not now, not ever. Jack would never be good enough to deserve him.

"Fuck you!" he screamed to no one in particular. His vision began to blur from tears and frustration. The broken man fell to the ground, curling up against the cold tile. His mind grew fuzzy. It wasn't long before Jack began to lose consciousness. The last thing he heard before he passed out was Anti's exasperated groan.

***

Mark awoke with a jolt, for no clear reason. He breathed heavily, laying in his bed for a while, trying to process what was happening. He grabbed his phone and checked the time. It was close to noon.

"Shit, fell asleep... Oh well," he sighed to himself, running a hand through his tangled bed hair.

The morning's events were all distorted and difficult to make sense of. Apparently Jack was in Mark's house... But that wasn't right. Mark realized, with a great pain throbbing in his chest, that he and Jack were no longer together.

Maybe it was all a dream?

 _Of all the idiots on this world, I had to land with you,_ Dark coldly remarked. Mark bristled.

"What the hell are you doing here? What does any of this have to do with you?" he asked, mildly annoyed by the demon's presence in his head.

 _I'm doing what you aren't, being useful._ Dark remarked snarkily.

"Coulda fooled me," Mark sighed, swinging his legs off the bed. 

Without warning, his mind was wiped blank, almost as if his train of thought had been forced to disperse. Out of nowhere, his head was flooded with disturbing images.

Jack was screaming, sobbing on the bathroom floor. Mark's heart shattered just from seeing the Irishman in such hysterics. His face was full of anguish, and he was screeching things that Mark couldn't make out, but had a terrible feeling that it was about himself.

The Irishman went quiet for a moment, before slumping to one side and falling limp against the floor.

The images were gone as quickly as they had arrived, leaving a dumbfounded Mark sitting petrified in his bed.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" he choked, his throat becoming clogged with emotion. His mind was racing to comprehend what he had just seen. Jack... oh no...

Dark did not respond to Mark's exclamation. He was still there, though, listening. Mark knew he was.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, shitbag! What did you do to him?!" he demanded, fear and anger overtaking him. The demon still did not say a word.

Mark abandoned his attempts to communicate with Dark, and instead lunged towards his closet and picked out the first clothing items he could find. He dressed himself fast, wanting to get to Jack before he did anything stupid. Mark was soon out the door and on his bike, pedaling like his life depended on it.

The journey was a blur of streets, sidewalks, and startled passerby. He took little thought in his surroundings, only focusing on Jack. Mark wasn't sure if the Irishman was in immediate danger or not, but he couldn't take any chances. He'd seen what Dark could do, and couldn't stand to even imagine those things being done to Jack.

Mark reached Jack's driveway and practically leaped off his bicycle, allowing it to crash to the ground. He sprinted to the front door and pounded on it with all his might.

"Jack? Jack! Sean!" he called out, hoping that his ex would reply at the sound of his real name. This hope was in vain. Mark grabbed the doorknob and tried to force the door open to no avail. It was locked tight.

"Fuck." Mark raced around to Jack's fence, climbing it with a grunt and stumbling into the backyard. He rushed to the backdoor, and to his relief, he was able to open it with ease.

"Sean!" he screeched. Mark's heart clenched as he heard a soft responding groan coming from the hallway. He raced towards the source and came upon the green-haired beauty himself, lying in a heap on the bathroom floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A-ha, cliffhanger. Aren't I good at making those in the middle of the night?
> 
> Anyway, little Markimoo thinks that all this chaos is Dark's doing. Little does he know that there's another entity lurking about, one that's probably more guilty than Dark. I wonder when Jack will tell Mark about Anti? Maybe in the next chapter, idk. I don't plan this shit out.


	3. Leave Me Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this fic is getting worse the more I update it but oh well. I'll keep trying.
> 
> If you're still reading this fic up to chapter 3, I'm surprised. Glad I could entertain you.

"Oh God. Sean? What did he do? Are you alright?" Mark skidded to a halt and kneeled down next to Jack. He propped his head up with his leg, grabbing a fistful of his hair and searching his face for any sign of recognition.

"Sean. Sean! Can you hear me?" Mark asked frantically, checking over Jack's body for wounds. Other than some small bruises forming on his forehead and his hand, he seemed to be alright.

"Fuckin' hell... what…who?" Jack peered up at the red-head with his eyes only partially opened. Mark looked down at him, and could feel his body tense.

"Ah, M-Mark… hi," the man greeted him, his voice strained; not from pain, but from pure emotion. His gaze wandered into Mark's eyes for a moment. The red-head could do nothing but stare back.

"Umm... get off me? Please?" Jack squeaked. Mark realized, with a blush, the uncomfortably dominating position he was in. He quickly stood up and stepped back.

"Can you get up?"

"O' course, I'm fine," he grunted, getting to his feet and leaning on the counter for support.

Jack glanced at the bathroom mirror with a slight look of disgust, then turned back to Mark. His expression was one of carefully crafted indifference and calamity. It was uncertain as to whether this was good or bad.

"So, what are you doing here?" the Irishman inquired, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.

Mark stiffened. He couldn't exactly talk about his demon "friend" that gave him a little tip. He was still unsure as to why Dark sent him here anyway.

"I... um, I wanted to make sure you were okay." He wasn't lying, Mark reassured himself. Just not telling the whole story.

Jack gave him a suspicious look. "What made you think I wasn't?"

"You acted a bit odd after this morning, so, yeah..."

"Well, duh. How was I supposed to act, waking up in my ex-boyfriend's bed naked after being possessed by a fuckin'—" The man cut off abruptly, having said too much. He looked scared; frozen.

Mark's head was whirling. Possessed?

There was only one thing capable of such a power that he knew.

"It was Dark, wasn't it?" he growled. "I knew he had something to do with this." Jack stared at him with wide eyes, trying to interject but not succeeding.

"I knew it!" Jack flinched as Mark's loud voice echoed through the bathroom. "I'll fucking /kill him!/"

"N-No! It wasn't him!" the Irishman protested, his voice unusually tiny and quiet compared to his ex.

"It... it was Anti," he added timidly, his eyes already round with fear and regret. Mark's ferocity faded into confusion.

" What? Who's Anti?"

Jack opened his mouth, but the voice that came out did not belong to him.

"Jack's old pal since preschool!" it chuckled menacingly, making Mark's blood turn to ice. He recognized that voice. He didn't know where he'd heard it, but he knew it was bad.

Mark slowly backed away, when the voice began to talk again.

"Scratch that," he sighed, blinking and revealing his multicolored eyes. "Since the day he was born, actually."

"Are… what…?" Mark couldn't form a complete sentence.

"Cat got your tongue?" he grinned, his razor-sharp teeth glinting slightly. "Or do you really not remember me?"

Jack was gone now. No trace of kindness, no timidness, no cute little smiles… he was completely different; sinister, oozing with confidence and radiating power.

"Well, duh. 'Anti' does mean 'opposite.'" the being commented matter-of-factly. Knowing that he could read Mark's mind didn't make him feel so well. He also noticed that there was a darker presence growing in his mind; Dark.

"You're really bad at masking your thoughts," Anti snorted.

Well, this was going to be a problem.

"…Stay away from me!" Mark ordered, his voice noticeably weak. He ignored his urge to flee and took on a defensive stance.

He noticed something flicker in the demon's left eye. The color kept shifting between the bright, poisonous green to a beautiful ocean blue. It seemed as if Jack was starting to fight back.

Anti's expression grew sour. "Stop that!" he screeched. "You wanted this! You are doing this!"

"Get—OUT!" Jack's voice begged, his eyes swelling with tears. Mark wasn't sure if this was addressed to himself or Anti. Either way, he was not going.

"I won't leave you! I'm gonna help!" he yelled.

"That is... a big mistake…" Anti hissed. A sickly green liquid began to leak out of his left eye, and it slowly ran down his cheek. Mark made the mistake of looking directly into its neon depths.

Green flashes. Death. Agony. Hurt. All these sensations and images hit Mark like a hammer, causing him to stagger and fall. He let out a howl as he dropped to the ground, writhing around as if he were being electrocuted. He was screeching incoherent words and gasping for air. It was too much, all at once.

He shut his eyes tight and whimpered. Gradually, the pain faded away. He curled into feral position, shaking. Mark wasn't sure what happened, but he did not open his eyes for fear that the pain will return. A sob broke out of his chest as he felt the demon growing near.

He could feel his breath on his cheek.

"Oh, Markimoo…" Anti crooned, his cool fingers brushing Mark's cheek. "Can you let Dark out for me? Pleaassseeeee?"

He didn't say a single word.

"Hm, curious." He shuddered as Anti's fingers graze his scalp, lovingly running through his hair. Mark didn't dare to look.

"You're a masochist, right? So you'll enjoy it if I hurt you?"

"N-No..."

"You're blushing. How cute. No wonder Jack loves you so much..." He felt repulsion bubbling up in his chest. He didn't want any of this. Anti had no business with Mark and Jack's relationship. If Mark was going to die, he at least wanted to get his thoughts out.

He found the courage to open his eyes and glare at Anti.

"Fuck you, you insensitive dickbag."

"Wow, feisty." Anti leaned down, his nose almost touching Mark's. All his disturbingly handsome features were right in his face. 

"If Dark doesn't want to come play with me, I guess you'll have to do."

Anti raised his hand, then suddenly began to twitch and spasm. For a small moment, Mark was looking into Jack's eyes again. They were full of sorrow. Mark could feel his heart break into two.

Jack tried to say something, but Anti quickly took back over, drawing his lips back in a snarl of annoyance.

The demon's foot flew into his stomach. Mark let out a small shriek as his back hit the door frame, the pain flaring up once more.

He looked up at Anti with fury in his eyes, wanting to hurt him so badly but unable to do so. Anti's eyes bore coldly into him. He knew exactly what Mark was thinking.

He wasted no time and kicked Mark in the forehead with all his might. There was a flash of white hot pain, and then there was silence.


	4. Pleasure or Pain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a piece of shit
> 
> Also, is it weird that I'm more socially awkward online than irl? Just, seriously... why

As Mark began to regain consciousness, he was vaguely aware that he was sitting in a hard metal chair. He lazily shifted around, yawning and shaking his head in an effort to wake himself.

He stiffened as he remembered what had happened. Anti...

Mark's head shot up and his eyes flew wide open, searching for any sign of the green-haired demon. The dim light hanging above him didn't offer much visibility, and his glasses were missing. Somehow he managed to make out a vaguely human shape pacing in the darkness.

He tried to talk, but found his mouth was blocked by a large strip of fabric. Mark's arms and legs were tightly bound to the chair, and were already starting to go numb.

"Well, it was about fuckin' time," Anti droned, stepping out of the darkness and directly in front of Mark. In one hand was an electrical shock collar, and in the other was a small, silver knife.

Mark also noticed, for the first time, the strange black heart tattoo on Anti's bare chest. A single drop of dark liquid was running out of it. Mark didn't exactly feel like asking what it was.

"Recognize these?" Anti asked, holding up the items in his hand.

"This is the knife I almost got to cut you with, and this is that lovely shock collar that you had in your house," he stated sweetly.

"We'll be playing with both today."

Mark didn't quite remember seeing the knife before, but the collar…

"Oh, yes," Anti cackled. "This collar has made things all the more exciting for me and Dark. I think it'll help us get to know each other too."

 _Go fuck yourself._ Mark directed the thought to Anti, daring him to read it. To his disappointment, he remained unscathed.

"What makes you think I didn't already?" Anti asked snarkily, rolling his eyes at Mark's disgusted expression.

"It was a joke, you whore."

"F'kin' whore?!" Mark screeched through his gag as best as he could. Anti shrugged and grinned.

"I don't know, 'whore' seems to suit you." The demon nodded with a wicked smile. "Oh yeah, I like that. Whore."

Mark's eyes were full of daggers, but Anti didn't seem to notice or care. He slowly approached him, his head tilting to one side in mere curiosity.

"Which would you like first? Shock collar or knife?"

His fingers grazed Mark's chin for a moment, to which Mark quickly pulled away. Anti's eyes flashed with irritation.

"Knife it is, then," he murmured.

Anti's hand lunged for Mark's throat, holding him back while he slowly pulled down the gag.

"I want to hear your screams clearly," the demon murmured as Mark began to choke and sputter. The American recoiled as Anti's lips touched his cheek for a moment. He roughly writhed around, trying to get out if the demon's choke-hold.

This time, Anti ignored his resistance and only persisted his efforts. He forced himself onto Mark, roughly kissing his lips and not allowing Mark to take a single breath.

Just as the edges of his vision began to dim, Anti pulled away with a smirk. The chair almost toppled over when Mark jerked up with a hacking cough, gulping and gasping for air. 

"You're—fucking—disgusting!" he managed to growl, chest heaving and hatred flowing through his veins. He lowered his head and refused to look at Anti, spite crawling in his skin.

"Yeah, I'm horrible. So despicable, messed up, et cetera," the demon said with a bored sigh and a tinge of sarcasm.

"Let's get on with it, shall we?"

Mark allowed his head to fall back, simply staring at the ceiling while he waited for Anti's next move. He shifted uncomfortably in the ropes that held him still, bracing himself.

He felt the knife easily cut through his jeans. The cold metal touched his leg. A shiver ran through Mark's body, and he could barely hold back a whimper as he felt the blade run slowly, painfully across his flesh. His breath caught and his head was dizzy. Anti was unimpressed.

"Hmph, I guess I'll have to go deeper then."

Mark's stomach twisted at the thought of Anti's knife digging deeper into his leg, blood pooling on the ground.

"Please... please don't…"

Anti noticeably flinched at Mark's hopeless begging. The demon blinked furiously, shaking his head. His hands had clenched and were trembling. The knife slipped out of Anti's grip and clattered on the floor.

"No, snap out of it. Fucking… Jack…" Anti muttered to himself. He was twitching, his eye color dimming. Mark was utterly horrified, watching as Anti became more unstable and slowly losing control.

His green eye suddenly flared in aggression.

"Stop!" The pure rage in Anti's voice made Mark want to back away as fast as possible, but he was unable to.

Anti hunched over, clutching at his forehead and shaking with emotion. The little heart tattoo on his chest was slowly shrinking.

A terrible shriek ripped from Anti's throat. His eyes blazed with anger. Without warning, he violently rushed Mark and grabbed him by the throat once more, both his eyes turned a sickening green.

He raised a fist, ready to punch the living daylights out of Mark, but just... froze. Anti's grip loosened, allowing Mark to take a few breaths.

Mark winced as the demon tumbled to the floor, violently thrashing around as if he were being murdered. Mark blinked, and the being fell limp.

"J...Jack?" Mark whispered timidly, studying the still form crumpled on the ground. It made no more movements.

Mark grunted as he tried to jump up and move his chair closer. The legs of the chair dragged along the floor and slowed him down, but he eventually managed to get within a foot of Jack. Fear gripped his heart. Was he dead?

"Jack? Jack?! Sean? Hey, wake up! Please... wake up..." Mark's voice broke. He stared at Jack intently for a moment, watching for breathing. He did not see the rise and fall of his chest, not even a small finger twitch.

"No... No! Sean!" Mark cried, struggling uselessly against the ropes that held him back. He wanted to help him, to hold him... but he could not.

He viciously tugged at his bindings, desperate to free himself. For a horrifying moment, the chair gave way and Mark was suddenly flying to the ground.

His skull hit the floor with a sickening thump that echoed in his head, and soon, everything that transpired was forgotten and faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Jack is dead? Does Bruno Mars is gay? find out next chapter on the worst Danti/Septiplier fic everrrr
> 
> In all seriousness, idk if I'm gonna have enough inspiration to complete this. I mean, you've seen this chapter... it's only gonna go downhill from here
> 
> Okay yeah just ignore me, if you like this then stay tuned. If you don't, then... You have permission to move on...?


	5. Mark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a tiny, itty bitty little bit smutty. I'm sorry.

Anti's furious screeching was what woke Jack. He groaned and became painfully aware of his position on the cold, hard floor of his basement.

Despite the protest of his joints, Jack managed to push himself up and get his bearings. The first thing he noticed was the yelling.

"JACK? WHAT THE FUCK? I WAS DOING WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO!" Anti screamed. Jack winced and growled in annoyance.

"Will you _please_ fuck off?"

Anti continued to insult him inside his brain, but Jack easily tuned him out. The demon was rather weak from having possessed Jack for so long, so he wouldn't be able to forcibly take over Jack's body again for some time.

The Irishman gasped as he noticed the familiar red-headed figure lying on the ground in the broken remains of what used to be an old rusted chair. Ropes loosely encircled his body. There was a large bruise on the side of his head, and an unsightly gash on his leg.

"Oh… oh no..." Jack moaned to himself, kneeling beside Mark and pulling the ropes off him. He examined his ex-boyfriend's wounds for a moment, and retreated upstairs to look for first aid supplies.

Unbeknownst to him, Mark began to stir. His fingers flexed, and a low groan rumbled in his chest.

He opened his eyes to see a smoky figure with beady red eyes sitting across from him, observing him with simple curiosity.

"Dark?" Mark called out weakly, his voice hoarse. "Where... where's Anti?"

"Shh." Dark crouched next to him, affectionately stroking his arm.

"He's gone, but he will be back. It's best to let me to, ahem, _take care_ of him for you."

Mark blinked up at him and tried to think, but tiredness was slowly tugging him away from reality. Dark would be nice to Jack. He had no reason to hurt him, so surely, it's be alright.

He gave the demon a slight nod before drifting back into unconsciousness. Dark smiled softly, watching Mark's eyes close and his body go limp.

"Thank you, Mark," he murmured softly. "for being so very easy to manipulate. I'm going to have a lot of fun in your body."

***

Jack was confused when he returned to see Mark standing upright, stretching and yawning as if nothing had happened. His back was turned, and his shirt lay neatly folded beside him.

Jack gulped as his eyes were drawn to Mark's muscles, which powerfully rippled under his tanned skin. His stance radiated strength and confidence. It was almost as if he were a different person. He was so fucking attractive, and Jack felt pathetic for thinking so.

"Oh, Jack," Mark rasped, turning to face him with an expression of pure calamity and intelligence. It was, unfortunately, one of Jack's turn-ons. He practically died right then and there as he caught sight of Mark's pecs.

"I was wondering where you had gone," he mused, raw sexual power emitting from his voice.

"I, uh, hi..." Jack said nervously, feeling his face heat up. 

"What's the ice pack for?" Mark asked, pointing to the plastic bag of ice in Jack's hand. He gave a sultry grin.

"Were you planning to use it on me?"

"Em, bruise… on your head?" Jack sputtered, thinking that perhaps Mark had been hit a little too hard when he fell. Why else would he be acting like this?

"No bruises here." Mark ran his fingers through his hair, feeling for wounds. Jack was ultimately transfixed. He snapped to reality when he started to feel something awakening below the belt.

"No, this isn't, no..."

"What's that, Jack?" Mark was suddenly up and on him, pinning him to the wall and looking into his eyes, making Jack's stomach swarm with butterflies. 

He was suddenly incapable of forming words when Mark hooked his fingers onto the waistband of Jack's jeans, uncomfortably close to touching his junk. Jack sharply drew a breath as Mark's fingers brushed against his pubic hair, and his sexual desires began to overtake his common sense.

"Just stay still, baby. I'll do all the work for you." Jack let out a small squeak at the pet name Mark had just given him. Baby. The way he said it, in that smooth deep baritone…

Mark made quick work of Jack's jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down to his ankles. His erection was fully visible in his thin boxers, and he shivered as his body was exposed to the cool air of the basement.

"I'll have that," Mark said, taking the ice bag from Jack's loose grip. He tilted his head and gave an un-Mark-like grin.

"Wanna experiment with ice, baby? I've always wanted to try it."

A small whimper escaped Jack's lips, and Mark took this as a sign of approval. He removed one cube of ice from the Ziploc bag, and proceeded to place it against Jack's stomach.

"Oh..." The ice touched his skin, which has been warmed from his arousal. The feeling of it slowly melting, the cold liquid dripping down his skin and into his boxers… Jack liked it.

Mark's finger traced down the water's path, brushing slightly against Jack's member. His moan was so dirty that he blushed at the sound of it.

Some instinct inside Jack warned him that this was wrong. Doing this with your ex was wrong. Mark himself was acting wrong. Everything happening was just wrong.

These thoughts were quickly discarded as Mark let out a low groan of pleasure. Jack noticed that while Mark had been teasing him, he had been palming himself through his jeans with his other hand.

"Jack," he grunted. "Mind helping me out?"

With some hesitation, Jack began to pull down Mark's pants. He felt his own erection throb as he eyed his ex's cock through his boxers.

He could feel himself blushing as he pulled down Mark's underwear, seeing his dick for the very first time. It was already drooling precome, and it was the hottest thing Jack had ever seen in his entire life.

It was a good length—about 8 or 9 inches. Jack's imagination when to dirty places. An image of Mark sweating above him, expression mixed between concentration and pleasure as he pounded into—

_Woah, stop right there, Jack!_

Jack guiltily glanced up at Mark's gorgeous face. With a start, he noticed that his chocolate-brown eyes were just... gone. In their place were two dark orbs of emptiness, except for the tiny white pupil in the middle.

He fell backward, scrambling to distance himself from what he thought was Mark.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Jack bellowed, his voice trembling with fear and rage.

The eyes quickly flicked back to their normal state, warm and forgiving.

"Just me, Mark. What happened?" the person asked, concern lining his voice. Jack knew it was fake.

"You... you can't fuck with me. You're Dark, aren't you?" 

"Why can't I fuck with you?" Dark stated in a conversational tone. "You did seem to want me to earlier."

Jack reddened. "S-Shut up," he said feebly. "That was before I knew who you really were."

Dark rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Seriously," he snorted. "What difference does it make? Mark and I are practically the same."

"Like hell you are. Give him back."

Dark gave him a sinister grin. "Only if you make me come first."

"Fuck no!" Jack protested immediately, his face practically on fire. "I'm not doing anything with you, much less _that!_ "

"It can't be hard to pretend that I'm Mark." Jack was suddenly pushed up against the wall, with Dark murmuring into his ear with his sweet voice.

"It would all be fine in the end. I will return the favor afterward." Dark's eyes had returned to pitch black, and they were filled with hunger. Jack squirmed around, battling between discomfort and lust.

"No—stop, I won't." The demon cackled at Jack's refusal and shook his head.

"I'm afraid it's not your choice to make. We're doing this, no matter what you want," Dark said slowly, pressing his forehead against Jack's and forcing him to look into his eyes. His still-sturdy erection brushed against Jack's leg.

"It's only a matter of how much pain you'll force yourself to endure."

Jack's eyes began to water. He didn't want this, but there was no way out.

"I won't," he repeated, desperately clinging onto hope. "I won't."

"Fine," Dark grumbled in annoyance, releasing Jack and stepping backward. Jack felt a burst of relief explode in his chest. 

Dark looked down to his erection with mild disappointment.

"Guess I'll have to finish myself then." He shot a look at Jack, licking his lip in a seductive manner.

"And even if you don't join in, you have to watch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself
> 
> No, I really don't, sorry. I'm loopy, it's almost midnight. I'm fine, I swear.
> 
> This is the closest thing to smut I've ever written, and it'll be the closest I'll ever get. I won't include literal smut in my stories, ever.
> 
> Merry early fucking Christmas btw, hope y'all are having a wonderful time :P


	6. Leaving Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kneels down and hides face*
> 
> I'm sorry. Gomen. I know I took way too long with writing this chapter. I procrastinate and I had no inspiration and I had other things to do so this got put off to the side... but Chapter 6 is here now, no worries!
> 
> Heh...

Jack's relief was short-lived, that's for damn sure.

He couldn't speak, he simply squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He wasn't going to.

Dark's dulcet tones soothed his ears, despite everything that had transpired, and Jack hated himself for it.

"Jackipoo… I'm not leaving until you do this for me."

He recoiled as he felt the demon's cool fingertips delicately touch his cheek. He wouldn't give in.

"Open your eyes, Jack," Dark urged.

A small bead of sweat ran down Jack's forehead. He was desperately fighting against his fear and panic, but he knew it was a losing battle. He was powerless against a being like Dark.

 _With me, you're not…_ Anti whispered. _I can help you, Jack. Let me take over. You don't have to suffer alone._

Anti's offer was tempting, Jack had to admit. Sit back, relax, let your friendly neighborhood demon deal with your problems.

"Jack..." Dark moaned. He was making noises, little grunts of pleasure, and it was obvious that he was getting off. Jack's cheeks heated up in embarrassment. He was actually doing it.

"You're so… damn fine... when you're like this…" the demon panted.

"No!" Jack squeaked, covering his face with his hands in an attempt to block everything out. He felt Dark's warm fingers curl around his wrists, slowly prying them apart despite Jack's efforts. Dark was simply too strong.

Jack opened his eyes slightly to see Dark glaring at him, his face red and sweat rolling down his body. His eyes were alight with a threatening red glow, his teeth bared in anger. Terror was all that Jack could feel.

"Don't do that again," the dark being growled. "I'm done playing games with you. If you look away again, I'm going to kill you."

Those words sent a cold shock down Jack's spine. He didn't want to die here, murdered in his own basement. He wanted to be happy when he died.

So he gave Dark his full attention, watching as his hand drifted back down to his erect member. He bit his lip as the demon resumed his earlier motions, pleasuring himself to Jack's discomfort.

Without warning, he forced himself onto Jack, his rough lips slamming against the Irishman's. There was no love in the kiss; only lust, hunger, and salt. It was nothing like anything Jack had experienced before, and he fucking hated it to bits.

There was a loud green flash, then a shriek, and Dark was suddenly sitting on his ass, back against the wall opposite Jack. The demon was clutching his chest, gritting his teeth and his brow furrowed with pain.

Anti sat across from him, a light smile and an expression of triumph on his face. He was clad only in his dark skinny jeans, with had some questionable stains on them, most likely from his earlier activities.

"Sorry about that, Dark," Anti said with a delighted laugh. "I was dying for a dramatic entrance."

"Hmph, 'dramatic'," Dark growled, getting to his feet and giving Anti a look of disapproval. "You're lucky I don't feel like fucking pounding your ass into the ground."

"Ooh, Dark, that sounds kinky!" Anti exclaimed brightly with a wink, much to Dark's discontent.

"T-That's not what I meant... assbag…" Dark muttered, staring down at the ground with flushed cheeks.

"Cutie," Anti cooed, approaching Dark with wide, curious eyes and a wide smile. It was far from innocent-looking; on the contrary, it was rather disturbing.

Dark's eyes flared with fury. "Cute?!" he hissed through his teeth.

"Yes. Cute. You are very cute, D—" Anti's snide, teasing remark was quickly cut off as the other demon's hand was squeezing around his throat, catching him by surprise. Dark's eyes and hair flared brightly with anger, and he promptly tossed Anti head-first into the wall with all his might.

The whole basement trembled as Anti hit the wall with a thunk, then crumpling on the ground motionlessly.

Dark froze for a second, suddenly realizing that he had actually hurt him.

"Anti! …Fucking fuck." The demon raced to his side, letting out dirty expletives and hovering over Anti's body. He was still weak from having fought with Jack earlier, he certainly can't take this... Dark was so stupid…

Then Anti's lips were smothering his, effortlessly forcing his tongue into Dark's mouth and shoving his hands into the red-head's hair, not allowing him to pull away.

Dark let out a muffled shriek of shock and rage, but begrudgingly gave into the kiss, letting his tongue dance with Anti's and leaning over him dominantly. He kissed him as if he would die tomorrow, savoring every second of those precious pink lips.

The sweetness of the affection softened Dark. He couldn't do this anymore, not today. Besides, he knew Jack was likely taking back over his body, and Anti would be gone for a while longer. Dark no longer required to be in this world, for now... Perhaps later, when Anti was strong again.

His consciousness drifted away, allowing Mark to resume control. The human deserved a little time for himself.

***

Jack wasn't fully aware of what was happening, having been forced to awaken. But it didn't take long for him to realize he was kissing someone. He opened his eyes a small way, and with a start, realized he was kissing Mark.

A mingled feeling of horror and excitement ran through him. He couldn't pull away. He wanted Mark, so badly. He was right here, kissing him... why would it have to stop?

 _He's your ex,_ Jack reminded himself, feeling broken as he did so. _It isn't right._

Mark seemed to be coming to his senses quickly, so Jack let the kiss end, scrambling away so that Mark wouldn't realize what had just happened.

The Irishman noticed that Mark was completely naked, his body bared for all to see. Jack suddenly remembered what had transpired earlier... with Dark.

The red-head held a blissful, peaceful expression on his face, but it quickly vanished as he shook his head, red hair flying everywhere. He looked around at his surroundings with confusion. His dark brown eyes rested on Jack.

"What happened?"

So. He had forgotten. Forgotten again, leaving Jack to deal with the terrible, terrible memories.

Jack didn't want to think about his times with Dark, but he couldn't help but remember how aroused he'd been, and how things went way downhill after he discovered his actual identity.

Jack let a small tear leak from his eyes, trailing down his cheek and disappearing into the cloth of his shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut, subconsciously trying to block out his memories. This was done in vain, and before he knew it, there were more tears. They caught on his lips and made his mouth taste like salt. He felt disgusting, violated, and enraged, all at the same time.

That monster… Jack hated Dark. He hated him. He hated him so much that his head began to throb.

Then Mark was wiping the tears away with his thumb. Jack wrenched his eyes open and flinched away, his tears splattering everywhere.

"Jack?" Mark questioned, his voice timid and confused.

"H-How do I know that you're really Mark… and not... him...?" Jack hiccuped, his voice broken up by his cowardly sobbing. Crying was not going to solve anything, Jack knew this. But here he was, bawling his eyes out…

"Him who?" 

"FUCK OFF!" Jack's loud screech ripped painfully from his throat. Mark recoiled at the shrill sound. "You know who I'm talking about, you _bitch_!"

Mark stared at him with those innocent, widened brown eyes. But was it fake? What was even real anymore? 

The relationship he used to have with him certainly wasn't, seeing how Mark has easily tossed him away like a used tissue.

"Look, Jack... I don't know what you're talking about, but I—"

"Shut up and go to hell," Jack said dryly. He wasn't going to let himself get attached to Mark again. He wasn't going to get close to him and get hurt again, and he definitely wasn't going to be tricked by Dark again.

"GoodBYE! Just fuckin' leave again! Take my heart and fuckin' smash it again... hurt me again… not like you even care what I'm sayin'," Jack muttered, turning his back on Mark and forcing himself to walk away. Right foot, left foot, up the old basement stairs, through the little trap door...

Jack pushed against the door, and found it wouldn't open. With all his might, he pushed against it, to no avail. He let out a frustrated groan and threw his whole body at it. Pain flared in his shoulder, but he kept trying. He kept hurting himself. He kept up his desperation. Clunk, clunk, clunk. It wouldn't budge.

Why now? What kind of devil magic did Dark fucking use on this goddamned door?

"Jack," Mark said quietly. "Do you need the key? I found it in your jeans' pocket."

"Oh." Jack turned and ran down to take the key from Mark, avoiding looking down to his nether regions, which were still uncovered. Did Mark have no decency?

"Why're you lookin' in my jeans?" he asked sharply. Mark drew back like a wounded dog.

"I thought they were mine and I was trying to grab my phone," Mark said sheepishly.

Oh, so he was planning on calling someone to pick him up so he could leave. Predictable.

Jack was about to turn back around and unlock the trap door when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait. Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, I did mention that my writing would get worse with each chapter, didn't I? Just wanted to remind us of that :P


	7. A Much-Needed Chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> m'back yay, here's a meh-level chapter where stuff happens

Jack stopped. He let out a huge sigh and turned back to Mark. The American felt a little crushed by the brooding expression on Jack's face, but was able to give him a strained, awkward smile.

"Look..." Mark chewed his bottom lip for a bit, pondering Jack's earlier words. He didn't mean to hurt him so badly. He should've realized. _I'm such a dumbass… What was I thinking?_

How could a breakup _not_ hurt someone? Mark, being the asshole he was, had just told Jack it was done and never spoke to him again. Fucking hell... He was a goddamned _idiot_!

"I'm… sorry."

"Huh? For what?" Jack asked, his brow furrowing.

"For everything!" Mark blurted loudly. "For playing with your feelings, for breaking up with you, for not understanding you..." His eyes flicked around nervously as he searched for words. Turning his feelings into coherent sentences was a lot harder than he thought.

"I was so horrid. I… I just…" He hung his head low, not even trying to hide his distraught.

"I didn't mean for this to happen, Jack. I didn't mean to end… _us_ … like that. I'm sorry. I know these are just empty words but... I'm sorry…"

Mark could practically feel Jack's opinion of him lessening by the second. This apology was pathetic, and the both of them knew it.

"Forget it, forget it. I'll go, just open the damn thing," he huffed, turning to locate his clothing. Mark ignored the tears that had begun to collect in his eyes, ignored his own choked sobs.

He pulled on his underwear and his jeans, pretending as if his chest was not shaking as he cried. He didn't deserve to cry like this. He had barely suffered during this entire thing. Why were there tears? Why was he acting like a baby?

Jack remained silent. Why was he still watching him? He could just leave Mark be. He could never associate himself with Mark again, but here he was...

"What are you trying to do?" Jack whispered, his suddenly-harsh Irish accent sending shivers down Mark's spine. "Are... are you trying to trick me again? Make me feel for you? Or what?"

"No! I wanted to tell you how I felt," Mark said, his shoulders drooping as he stared at the ground. "Just please, let me leave. I'll never bother you again."

"Good," Jack said curtly. It was a simple phrase, but it stung like a wasp. Jack didn't believe Mark; he didn't trust him, and probably never would again.

The thought only caused more tears to go running down his face. He hated himself for this. 

Mark brushed the tears away impatiently, sniffling and refusing to look at Jack. He heard the trap door click and creak as Jack managed to force it open with a grunt.

"Come on," Jack said, his tone flat and emotionless. Mark dabbed at his eye a little before leaving the basement and allowing Jack to close it back up.

Cool, fresh air washed over him. Mark breathed it in gratefully, glad to be free of the sweaty, moldy stench of Jack's basement. He ignored the fact that he would probably never set foot in this house again.

Jack was watching him with a blank look on his face. Mark shifted uncomfortably, wiping away fresh tears and avoiding Jack's eyes.

"Well?" Jack asked. "Aren't you going to leave now?" Mark glanced up, and was surprised to see silent tears streaming down his ex's face. Jack quickly turned away to hide his crying, but Mark knew what he saw.

"Hey, Jack…" Mark tried to step closer, but the Irishman jumped away.

"No!" he croaked, staring at Mark with pure desperation. "Don't… don't make me regret this! Just go! Get the fuck out!"

"Jack, I don't want—"

"Don't give me that fake ass concern. Out… please..." Jack begged, turning back to Mark. The tears glistened, fresh on his flushed cheeks, and broken determination in his eyes.

Mark's guilt fully caught up to him. He had caused this. He had broken him.

He had made Jack hate him. He made Jack despise him. He made Jack hurt.

He hated himself.

"I'm sorry," Mark choked, his throat clogged with emotion. "I didn't realize how much you cared. I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. It's over now, there's nothing to be sorry about anymore," Jack stated quietly. "But it's time for you to go." The Irishman wiped his eyes with the hem of his sleeves, looking down at his feet.

"I want to help you, though." The words left Mark's mouth without hesitation. Jack looked up in surprise.

"What?" he asked, his tone wary.

"I said, I want to help you. I don't want you to be sad." It sounded stupid, but it was true. Mark didn't want to be a source of negativity for anyone, especially Jack. He wanted to be positive, to be someone that made people happy. He couldn't do that if he left Jack alone with his feelings.

Jack's eyes flashed hopefully, but dimmed back down to a remorseful sorrow.

"That's not possible. If you're around, you'll only remind me of... of…" 

He squeezed his eyes shut before blurting out, "Of the fucking betrayal I felt, and the shit between Anti and Dark and… when Dark… fucking almost... r-raped me." Jack took a shuddering breath and shook his head back and forth, as if trying to clear his mind.

Mark stiffened. "He... he did what?"

"Well, he didn't exactly do it," Jack whimpered. "But I still don't want to remember what happened. I... I didn't like it at all, Mark. He… I..."

Mark slowly processed this information, somewhat incredulous. It couldn't be true. Dark has no reason to do that to Jack. He's never interacted with Jack. But why would Jack lie?

"I... what? How?"

"What do you mean, how?" There was annoyance in Jack's voice, but his eyes were swelling with sorrow. "He pinned me to a fuckin' wall and tried to have sex with me. I said no and he started jacking off to me. As simple as that," he ended weakly, wiping at his eyes with the ends of his sleeves. It wasn't very simple at all, clearly.

An image of Jack appeared in Mark's mind. Jack, hopeless and helpless, cowering under Dark. Defenseless and fearful. Expression filled with pure terror and disgust. His mouth slightly agape in disbelief.

Terror. Disgust. Helpless.

"I'm going to kill him," Mark uttered darkly, clenching his fists and digging his fingernails into his palms. The pain was only fuel for his growing rage.

"Mark, you can't," Jack stated plaintively. "It's impossible, he'd obliterate you."

"I don't care," Mark snarled, searching for Dark's presence in his mind. He knew he was there. His fingers itched to dig into Dark's skin, make him scream, and teach him a lesson. You don't do that to people, especially not people like Jack.

"Mark…" Jack took a step back, causing Mark to halt his thoughts. He was afraid again. Afraid of him.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, Mark!" Jack interrupted quickly. "You need to leave!"

"What? Now?" Mark recognized the familiar sound of tires grinding into Jack's gravel driveway, and the faint hum of a car engine.

"Who's that?" He looked around to see an unfamiliar car through the front window. It was a light gray with tinted windows, and it was too far to see who was inside.

"Do you know… what he's going to think... when he sees me covered in marks and bruises, with you, a stranger, in my house?"

"Oh. Um…" The car engine clicked off, and the glare of the headlights on the window dimmed. Danger was imminent.

"Shit. I'll... I'll call you, okay? I don't want us to end like this." Mark didn't give Jack a chance to respond and practically flew out the backdoor, slamming it shut quickly. He sprinted around the house and peaked around to look at the car.

A man stepped out. The first things Mark noticed about him was his snowy white hair, most likely dyed. His chin was covered with a dark brown stubble. Tattoos ran down his arms, which were muscular but still skinny. He had his keys in his hand, and was walking up to the front door. The man unlocked it and entered the house.

Mark had never seen this man before in his life, but he didn't want to stick around here for much longer. He felt guilty for running out on Jack, but a selfish part of him feared rejection. He didn't want to give Jack a chance to push him away. He wasn't going to let Jack go so easily. He was going to make things work, he promised himself.

"Hey, Ja—Woah, the fuck happened to you?!" An accented voice exclaimed from inside the house. Swedish, Mark noted.

"Uh, h-hey, Felix…" came Jack's shy response. "I, um, got jumped…"

"Do you need ice or something, bro?" Mark silently thanked 'Felix' for tending to Jack's injuries, feeling ashamed that he hadn't been able to help Jack first.

"Yeah, actually, that'd be helpful. Thanks."

"No problem, Jack." Mark heard some slight commotion from inside, and not much else.

He rubbed slightly at his bare shoulder as a tremble took hold of him, and realized he had forgotten his shirt, like a dumbass.

"Fuuuuck…" Mark rolled his eyes and sighed. He hoped that Felix wouldn't find any reason to venture down into the basement. Jack wouldn't be able to explain how a random sweat-and-blood-stained shirt appeared out of nowhere.

He went over to his bike and mounted it, pedaling away as fast as he could before Felix could get a glance at him from the window. Mark needed some serious thinking time, not to mention quality food and some nice sleep...

Mark looked back at the house for a second, watching the lights in the windows become smaller and smaller.

Yes, both he and Jack needed some down time. For sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story isn't as impactful or enjoyable as I thought it would be, I'll probably end it or discontinue it soon. Sorry :/


	8. Avoidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks y'all for reading this still! You keep me inspired! *thumbs up*

It's been a week since Jack has talked to Mark.

He felt so bad, so guilty for avoiding him. All Mark had wanted to do was be nice. But Jack just... couldn't. He didn't want to, and he was fearful of what would happen the next time they met.

Jack's anger at Dark wasn't any closer to waning, which didn't help much. A small inkling of him wanted to go back just to talk to Dark, to make him hurt and regret what he did. He wanted to confront Mark and just scream at him, hate him with all his will.

But Mark didn't really do anything wrong, and Jack wasn't a malicious person. That was Anti's feelings, not his.

He could live without Mark's complications. Jack had Felix to go to if he ever had any trouble. Okay, maybe Felix would often leave him alone at home, but when he was around, he would listen to Jack. Jack would never talk about Anti with him, though.

 _I miss Mark. We should go back to him. Whaddya think, Jack?_ Anti's voice was loud and tantalizing. He was prying into Jack's feelings, trying to hit him in the weak spots, but Jack was having none of it.

"You mean you miss Dark. Go screw off and eat a fucking rock."

"Eh? Was that at me?"

"No, no! Agh, sorry, Felix. Just thinking aloud." Jack rubbed his temples, cursing himself. At this rate, Felix would find out about Anti faster before he could even say his name.

He looked around at Felix and tried to smile, tried to ignore Anti's strengthening presence in the back of his mind. The Swede looked slightly concerned.

"You've been acting a little weird ever since you, um, were attacked. Are you sure you're okay, Jack? Should we have gone to the hospital?"

"No, no, I'm... fine. Just thinking about the, em, the breakup..."

"The breakup? That happened a month ago. I thought you were already over him."

 _Glad I had you fooled,_ Jack thought sarcastically.

"Well, it was only about two weeks ago. And, it's just… We've been trying to work things out recently." Jack wasn't lying. Mark has tried to reach out to him, even though he was being rejected…

Jack swallowed back the guilt and finished quickly.

"Things have been a little tough, but we're talking and stuff, so, yeah."

None of Felix's curiosity had been satisfied by Jack's vague statements, which was understandable but frustrating. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, seeing how you're acting now, it doesn't seem like you've been having very good talks."

Jack bristled. "No! No, we've actually been, uh… good. Most of the problems happening have admittedly been my fault…" Jack deciding to bring Anti into the mix had brought in a whole new complication to the relationship. He had been one of the main causes of all this...

_Stay strong. Remember, Felix is right fuckin' there._

"Um… okay, man." Jack could tell there was still something on his roommate's mind, but he didn't say anything about it.

"I've gotta go meet up with Marzia, but we'll talk later, okay?" The Swede grabbed his keys and took a look at Jack for a few extra seconds, where his heart pounded loudly, echoing in his ears.

"Stay safe."

And like that, he was out the door, in his car and driving away like nothing happened. As the dust settled and the silence filled the room, Jack contemplated Felix's parting words. Stay safe? Safe from what? Did he somehow know about the situation with Anti?!

No, there was no possible way he could know. And even if he did, he'd be a lot more concerned.

Jack felt relieved, but saddened. He wished he could tell someone, anyone about his problems with Anti. But that would likely lead into a nice long stay at the local mental asylum. Except…

Mark. Mark has dealt with higher, devilish powers too. But he was clueless about how to control Dark, obviously. Talking to him would not help...

Dark. A strange hunger for the red-haired demon's presence consumed his mind. But Jack knew the craving was Anti's and Anti's alone... or was it?

_Oh, Jackaboy… Jaaaackaaaboyyy~!_

"The hell do you want?" Jack spat, laying with his back against the hallway wall, closing his eyes in exasperation. Stupid… ass… demon…

_Markimoo's a'hungerin' for us. He wants us a looot, why don't we pay him a visit?_

"Because you're a fuckin' lunatic and you just keep morphing things to your way. Assbag..."

 _Is that so? Remember, Jackaboy, I can hurt you._ There was no trace of sarcasm or playfulness in Anti's words anymore. His voice was more mechanically garbled than it usually was, deeper and more static-esque. If Jack didn't know any better, the room temperature might've drooped several degrees. Where had this sudden change in mood come from?

"…Why do you want to see him so badly? Can't you just visit him in the demon world or something?"

 _Ha, ha,_ Anti laughed dryly. _I like things in the human world better. There's more consequences, more chaos, more... feeling. More things I like._

"If you're tryin' to be edgy or somethin', it's not working," Jack snorted. He'd barely gotten the chance to shut his mouth again before he felt a grip on his throat, and it was slowly squeezing the life out of him. 

It was happening so quickly that all he could do was grope at Anti's darkened hand, croaking and babbling meaningless words as he struggled for air.

A vague, wispy face appeared in front of him, its eyes blazing and completely consumed by blue and green. A light smoke trickled into the air, and the there was a faint outline of wings protruding from Anti's back.

"Here's something that needs to get through your thick and skull; I'm in charge. Not you, you idiotic git." The demon had only whispered, but his voice reverberated loudly around the room, a constant repeating reminder of his full power over Jack.

"I own you!" he roared, his fingers clenching on Jack's throat. "And don't you _fucking_ forget it!"

"I'm—sorry," Jack choked desperately as Anti's thin, sharp fingers dug into his neck. But the pain quickly dimmed. A hazy fog began to settle in his vision, his lungs screaming and burning. Air, air... he needed... air...

Was he going to die? Strangely, it was a pleasant thought. Death meant an end. Death meant that he never had to see Anti or Dark again. That sounded nice.

But then he had air. And he didn't die. Anti had dropped him onto his knees, and Jack was gulping oxygen like no tomorow, curled up on the floor and breathing like he'd just won a marathon.

He lay there for a while, simply listening to the sound of his own heartbeat and staring blankly into the kitchen. Anti was gone. He had taught his lesson.

Jack thought of the feelings he had before Anti had released him. Did he truly want to die?

He pushed that thought away for now. He couldn't bear to ponder that, right here and right now, without emotional support.

With a strained grunt and trembling muscles, Jack forced himself on his feet and limped into the kitchen, making a beeline to the fridge for some water to soothe his now-ravaged throat. His neck felt extremely tender and bruised, so he could use some ice as well…

He opened the fridge and was surprised to see a few bottles of whiskey, lined up neatly on the white shelves. Had Felix been drinking? Was he preparing for a party of sorts?

Surely, he wouldn't mind if Jack had a shot or two. Though he didn't drink all that often, he remembered that alcohol did calm his nerves for a while. Felix would understand.

Jack didn't know much about different brands or types of alcohol. All the bottles and their labels looked the exact same to him.

"Some Irishman I am," he hummed before he chose a bottle at random. It was a clear bottle, allowing him to view the whiskey inside. Jack held it up at eye-level, watching the golden liquid slosh from side to side within the glass.

He shrugged and grabbed a glass from the cupboards. Before long, he had poured a small amount of whiskey into the glass and was daintily sipping at it.

Jack pulled back and gritted his teeth as the bitter alcohol bathed his tongue. It traveled down his throat, leaving a strange aftertaste behind. There was a slight fruity taint, but it still tasted metallic in his mouth. Most likely, he had his low alcohol tolerance to blame.

Feeling the whiskey settle in his stomach, Jack realized what he was doing.

He stared at the glass in his hand, thinking quietly. Was this really the way to go?

Jack had heard stories of people getting so drunk they forgot their problems and forgot their stress. They would become happy for a while. They would be relaxed. Could Jack ever get to that point?

One way to find out.

Jack poured himself some more whiskey, lifted the glass to his lips, and drank away the evening. And no one was around to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, I had to google "how to drink whiskey" for this chapter. I'm not an aspiring teenage alcoholic, I swear.


	9. Touching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had some Melix in it towards the end, just saying. Hope ya don't mind! I promise, it's just a little side-shipping thing, and Septiplier will remain the focus of the story.
> 
> Also, just realized this story passed 2,000 hits. Have that many people really read this weird cringey shit I've concocted? ...Well, thanks for reading! <3

Mark awoke in a cold sweat in his bed, his teeth gritted tightly and his head throbbing. No, no, no…

But the nightmare was over. Dark's cool, tantalizing voice was gone. Jack's accusations of betrayal were gone. It wasn't real.

Bright daylight was shining through his window, almost blinding him. His midday nap had apparently not been as long or restful as he would've liked.

Mark felt a weight on his chest, and was abruptly reminded of the morning he woke to see Jack curled up beside him. Not the night after Anti, no, but the time when Jack was his boyfriend, when he loved to give Mark all the attention and affection he could. His heart began to ache as the memory resurfaced.

_Jack shifted against Mark's chest, turning his head to face Mark. Being the big spoon, Mark usually couldn't see Jack's sleeping face, but here it was..._

_The concentration and stress that was usually knit into his brow had vanished, leaving a relaxed, rather adorable Irish bean in its place. His mouth was agape, allowing a light snore to escape every few seconds. It was an endearing sight, one that Mark wished he could take a picture of and save forever._

_Mark had his arm wrapped around Jack protectively, and he gave him a little squeeze. Jack let out a small grunt of annoyance, though a grin had appeared on his face._

_Jack slowly opened and peered at Mark with his soft baby blues, studying him with pure admiration and curiosity. The loving attention almost made Mark swoon._

_"Hey, Mark," Jack greeted him lightly, his voice slightly hoarse from the lack of use. Before Mark knew it, he was smiling brightly._

_"Good morning, Sean," Mark said._

_"Mmmmm..." Jack slowly reached over and pulled up his sleeves, then extended his arms outward in an elaborate stretch._

_Then he lifted a pale hand to Mark's face, running his fingers down his chin and over his stubble. The movement caught Mark off guard, and he jerked away before he could even think. Panicked thoughts ran through his head... What would_ they _think? What if this was wrong? Would they hate him now?_

_"Mark? I'm sorry, was that too far? …Mark? Hey, Mark?"_

Mark looked down to his chest with a strange mixture of apprehension and excitement. His mouth was open, ready to defend himself for his actions. He was almost disappointed to see Chica laying there, her loud dog snores filling the air.

"Hey, Chica bica…" His soft words woke her, and happiness burst inside of him as Chica opened her eyes and looked at him. If she could, she probably would've been smiling.

Mark gently pet her, running his fingers through her blonde fur and pulling out all the knots and tangles. No one could shame him for loving Chica; she was a dog, man's best friend. He could hug and kiss her all he wanted and no one could judge him.

Why can't it be like that with Jack?

The thought had come out of nowhere, causing Mark to freeze and Chica to whine and look at her owner with concern.

Unfortunately, Mark didn't have much time to ponder the question before his phone rang. The deep beats of Crazy la Paint roused him, causing him to leap out of bed and check who was calling.

The name "Jack" was clearly printed on the screen, and Mark felt his heart skip a beat. A quick check of his notifications told him that Jack had attempted to call him a few minutes earlier. So, he must really need something then...

He found himself hesitating to answer the call, even though he was ecstatic. Jack wanted to talk to him, but for what? Was he going to give Mark another chance, or severe ties with him?

He tapped the "Answer" button and lifted the phone to his ear, close to trembling from the anticipation and anxiety.

"Hello?"

"Heh, Mark, hi... Wow, your voice sounds even deeper on the phone, I forgot that happened…" Jack said, his speech slightly slurred and a little bit dreamy.

"Um… thanks?" This hadn't been what Mark was expecting at all.

"So, like, can you come over? Pleeassseee? I want to see you." Jack began to babble like a child. "Heh, I'd like you without clothes, but you can come with them if you want, don't matter..."

Mark could feel his face redden as his mind shot to places it shouldn't go, but he quickly shook it off. There were more important things than his sick fantasies.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothin'! Just had like, half a bottle of Felix's whiskey. Don't tell him please. I don't think he'd care, but…" Jack giggled. "I ain't payin' him back for it, so he'd probably get sad and angry and whatnot."

Mark sighed, sitting down on his bed and giving Chica a few slow strokes. So Jack hadn't wanted to talk to him. He was just drunk.

"Well, I'm gonna go. Take care of yourself, alright Jack?"

"No no no!" Mark flinched away from the phone as Jack's voice turned sharp and whiny. "Don't go! I want you to come here! You can even have some of Felix's whiskey if you want."

"Jack, I can't drink. You know that."

"I know." The Irishman made an exaggeration sad groan. "Okay, okay, just... please come over. I want you here with me."

Mark couldn't help but imagine Jack, all sad and lonely, holding a nearly-empty whiskey bottle and talking on the phone. His eyes stared down at the ground, the corners of his mouth drooped, his grip on the neck of the bottle became loose.

If he said no, Mark knew he wouldn't be able to relax while thinking of Jack, drunk and alone.

"Okay. Not for long, but—"

"Yay!" Jack's exclamation was filled with childish joy. It was slightly off-putting, hearing a man that has been sad for weeks be so upbeat and cheerful. And Mark felt incredibly guilty for not being there for him during those weeks. But now he can be there for him, even though Jack was drunk.

"Okay Jack, I'll see you in about five minutes."

"Seeya!" There was an awkward silence as neither of the men moved to hang up the call.

"Ey? Wanna talk to me more, big boy?"

Mark raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "Excuse me?"

"Ye heard me."

"No, I don't, but thanks. Goodbye." Jack's drunken laughter made Mark smile for a bit, before he tapped the "end call" button. He looked down to Chica, who was waiting expectantly at his feet.

"Well, sorry puppo. Guess I'm heading over to Jack's now. I'll see you later, okay?"

She simply stared into his face, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her tail swishing from side to side. Mark grinned and patted her head.

"Thanks, pup."

***

"It's getting late, Marzia," Felix said with a sigh. "And though I don't wanna leave you or this gorgeous sunset, I don't wanna be here in the dark. I hear it can get a bit, um, scary."

"You're scared of the dark, Felix?" Marzia asked, a hint of teasing in her soft voice.

"No!" Felix protested quickly. "I mean like, thugs and stuff."

"Hm, thugs… didn't Sean get hurt by one?"

"Jack?" Felix asked, slightly confused as to why Marzia would be bringing him up now. "Yeah, but, he's okay now. Why?"

"I don't know." Marzia pressed her rosy lips together, thinking. "When you talked about him earlier, I thought... Something just seems wrong about him. His story has many holes in it."

Felix shrugged. "That's true, but I don't want to pry too much. If he wants to tell me the full story, he'll tell me."

He pondered a little more and frowned. "I think Jack might be getting abused, but... I don't know if it's my role to stop it."

"Abused?" Marzia repeated, taken aback.

"Yeah. I mean, he said he was trying to mend things with his ex. Next thing I know, he has bruises and cuts all over him, and he's blaming himself for things that happened between them. Abuse… well, it's a possibility, but I'm not completely sure yet."

Marzia closed her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. "I'd hope not. But I don't think we should be discussing things like this so lightly. Talk to him, but don't pry."

"Yeah, 'course." Felix had no idea how to get Jack to talk to him about it without getting too personal, but for now, he put his roommate's problems aside. This was quality time with his girlfriend, and he shouldn't waste it.

Marzia looked back at the sunset. The orange and purple colors of the sky blended into the soft brown irises of her eyes. The vague smile on her lips… the way the dying sunlight washed over her... Felix, on instinct, tugged his camera out of his bag and stepped back to snap a picture.

Marzia noticed, but allowed him to take a few pictures before turning to him with an amused expression.

"Why are you taking a picture of _me_?" She laughed. "If anything, you should be taking some pictures of the sunset. It's very pretty today."

"Ah, but I think you're just as, if not more beautiful than the sunset."

Marzia covered a wide smile with her hand. "Felix!"

Felix reached over and pulled her hand down, resulting in suppressed giggles, which sounded adorable as it always was in her high Italian accent.

"Ya don't need to hide your smile from me, woman," he smirked. "Seeing it is, eh, pretty awesome."

Marzia laughed, slipping her hand into his with ease. Her fingers were quite warm. "You were always just... Ahem, amazing at flirting, Felix."

"How else would I have captivated you?"

"Your… prettiness, maybe?" Marzia said, unable to hold back a smile.

"Hah, thanks," Felix scoffed, rolling his eyes with much exaggeration. "I've gotta go, but I'll call you later, okay?"

"Alright." Marzia sighed, pulling at the collar of her shirt. "I'll see you soon, Felix."

He gently pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her tightly. With his camera still in hand, he attempted at taking a picture of the hug. He wasn't sure if it turned out good; he'd have to check later.

Felix stepped back, saluted, and blew Marzia a kiss before walking back to his car, grinning from ear to ear. As he left the beach and headed home, his thoughts about Jack resurfaced.

Felix may have barely known Jack for a month, but admittedly, the small Irishman has already grown on him. He might be jumping to conclusions about the abuss, but he was going to make sure that no one hurts Jack from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's gonna get to Jack's first, Mark or Felix? Hell, they might make it there at the same time, who knows?
> 
> If things go the way I think they might, next chapter will definitely have some tension and action and stuff. ;)


	10. He's Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell yeah, chapter ten! Can't believe I made it this far, despite all the procrastination and delays.
> 
> 170 people gave this story kudos... why tho lol. But thanks! <3

Mark knocked on Jack's door, listening for sounds from within the house. He heard a chair scrape against the floor, and a slow sigh.

Mark tried to open the door, but it was locked and wouldn't budge.

"Jack—?!"

The door suddenly swung open, startling Mark and causing him to stumble backwards. And there stood Jack.

His eyes had dulled from their normal bright blue to a dull turquoise. There were weird dark circles under his eyes, and prominent veins in his neck, as well as dark bruises. Mark didn't know much about alcohol use, but he knew that these weren't normal side effects.

His eyes darted around, taking in Mark's appearance. Jack seemed on edge, but sluggish at the same time.

Jack's mood had changed so drastically. There had been delight and joy in his voice when he had called Mark. What had transpired in the few minutes it took him to travel here?

Before Mark knew it, he was pressed up against Jack, his arm wrapped around him as he supported the inebriated man, helping him onto a nearby couch. His heart clenched as Jack hesitated to let go, but Mark had to push those feelings away. Now is not the time.

He went to the kitchen to fetch some water, and found a nearly empty whiskey bottle sitting on the counter.

"Did you drink all of this?" Mark asked, terrified that such a small person could've consumed that much alcohol. Jack didn't respond, and Mark realized he wasn't going to get many answers from him in this state.

He quickly got some water from the fridge and headed back to Jack, who was laying in the same position, his eyes pointed at the ground.

"Water?" Jack didn't even make an attempt to shake his head, or do anything at all. Mark placed the glass of water on the counter and returned to Jack, kneeling in front of him.

Then Jack's eyes lifted from the floor to focus on him. It felt like he was staring into the very core of Mark's being, carefully judging and evaluating all his emotions and secrets. Mark ignored the trickle of unease that had crept it's way down his spine.

"Hey, Jack," he said softly, hoping that a gentle tone and simple conversation would encourage Jack to speak. "How are you?"

"Okay," Jack mumbled. Mark tried hard not to flinch as the stench of whiskey reached his nostrils. This guy had certainly been drinking a lot.

"Why did you call me here?" he asked.

"Lonely," Jack stated flatly. His gaze was still making Mark incredibly uncomfortable, but he continued to ask his questions.

"Did something happen before I got here?"

Jack's eyes drooped to the floor again. He seemed to have lost interest in the conversation, but Mark kept trying.

"I know this isn't just you being drunk. You're different now."

No reply.

"Hey, Jack, can you look at me?"

No reply. 

"Please."

No reply.

"I want to help you, but you need to let me."

"Do you realize what you're doing to me?" The question was barely audible, and had it not been for the movement of Jack's lips, Mark would've thought he had imagined it.

"You told me you cared... but if you did, why did you let him take over? Why would you let him hurt me?"

"Jack, I barely have control over Dark. It wasn't my fault, you have to believe me," Mark pleaded. He hoped, simply hoped with the core of his being, that his ex could understand. 

"Not you. Him." Jack pointed behind Mark, who looked around and saw nothing there. Just a completely bare wall.

"Huh?"

"He's there," Jack said confidently. "And he was supposed to help me." There was a dark flicker in his eyes, and a drop of rich, dark blood leaned out of one of his nostrils. Jack simply sat still, allowing the blood to run down his chin and into the collar of his shirt.

A hazy feeling nagged at the back of Mark's mind, something that he pushed to the back of his mind as he ran to fetch a napkin to stem the sudden nosebleed. He ran back to Jack and held a wadded-up paper towel to his nose, dreading what would happen next.

"Stay with me, Sean, please. Listen to me. Fight it," Mark begged, attempting to wipe away all the blood. It only smeared and stood opaque against Jack's pale skin, making him appear to be all the more sinister. Jack was in pain—It was clear in the way he watched Mark's movements in total silence, his eyes squinting and his breath quickening. Anti... It must be him.

"Umm… hi?" Mark stiffened at the new voice, originating from behind him. It didn't sound much like Anti. But it was… familiar.

"Hey, who are you? And what the fuck are you doing to Jack?" The man demanded, his voice thick with suspicion. Mark instantly backed away from Jack, holding his hands in the air defensively.

"Uh, my name is Mark. Jack called me, he seemed like he had a little too much to drink, so I came here to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself or anything. You?" he said, quick to defend himself. The man raised an eyebrow.

"I'm Felix, Jack's roommate," the man said. Mark remembered him—He was the guy who had interrupted him and Jack the last time he'd been here.

"Are you his... his friend, or something?" Felix asked. Mark bristled. His tone was certainly not friendly. What was this guy's problem?

"Well… It's complicated," Mark admitted. "Now I just need to help Jack before he drowns himself in his own nose blood, okay?"

He hurried over to Jack's side, reaching out with the paper towel. Immediately, Felix's hand was curled around his wrist, pulling Mark towards him and looking at him face-to-face, his expression deadly serious.

"Why the fuck is his nose bleeding?" Felix demanded. "Did you hurt him?"

"No! I would _never_ , he's—"

"Then why does he look so weak? Why is his neck covered in bruises? And why the hell does he refuse to even look at you right now?"

"I... um..." _Because of Anti,_ Mark wanted to scream. _I didn't touch him, it was that fucking sorry excuse for a demon!_

But Mark knew he couldn't say that. Felix would never believe him, and Jack would be angry.

"I... I can't say," Mark stammered. "Jack would hate me for it." It was pretty damn close to the truth, but Felix was having none of it.

"Listen here, you son of a bitch." Felix's face was taut with fury. _His eyes are the same color as Sean's_ , Mark thought dumbly. He was quickly brought back to reality as Felix dug his fingers into his arm. It was painful, but Mark felt extremely wary.

"I don't believe a single word you're saying right now," Felix scoffed. "I want you to leave right now."

"Dude, slow down a bit. You're jumping to conclusions. I know this looks bad, but please…" Mark's panic levels were going off the charts. He needed to stay. He needed to convince him. "Please, I'd never hurt Sean. He means so much to me."

"Listen, I don't want to believe you would, but I don't trust you. You need to leave!"

"Are you saying that you don't believe me?"

"Well…"

Felix was pushed up against the wall, coughing and sputtering as he was lifted off his feet. His face was reddening as he flailed and struggled, clawing at the hand that held him by the neck. Mark stood there calmly, holding Felix up with strength that he didn't have before.

As the minutes flew by quickly, Felix's attempts to escape grew weaker, his face taking on a purplish tint and his mouth gaping, making indescribable noises in his throat as he was strangled. There were marks lining Mark's arm, bleeding from the scratches of Felix's nails. He couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel them at all. Just the gurgle and strain of Felix's neck muscles.

"You can't stop me," Mark said quietly as the life faded from his victim. The words felt odd, uncomfortable in his mouth. It didn't feel like his voice. It didn't feel like himself.

Mark felt like he was in a different world as he threw Felix to the ground with a thud, Felix's head smacking against the floor with a gross crack. Mark left him there and went to the counter, where he grabbed the emptied whiskey bottle that Jack had been drinking earlier.

He turned and noticed… himself...? It was him, Mark, or something who looked exactly like him. He was dragging Felix away, his eyes filled with fearful determination.

Though Mark was confused, that wouldn't stop him. He walked up to pseudo Mark, feeling a grin stretch across his face. He adjusted his grip on the bottle, slowly approaching his other self. The idiot was cornered, there was no place to go.

Pseudo Mark reached down to his pockets, checking for something, but couldn't find what he was looking for. His face paled by several shades. He abandoned Felix and scrambled to the window, screaming and pleading with empty words.

Mark looked down at Felix's limp form that had been left on the floor, and raised the bottle. He brought it down with a grunt on the Swede's head. It immediately shattered, falling in scattered pieces across the floor. Some of the shards pierced and sliced into Felix's skin. Soon, there was a steady flow of blood trickling down his head.

Mark almost vomited right then and there, as a sudden sickly feeling overtook him. He leaned against the wall, staring down at his shaking hands. What the fuck… what the _fuck_...

His knees hit the ground as he keeled over, panting as he began to hyperventilate. There's no way this happened. _I'm not a murderer, I'm not a murderer, I'm just Mark. But he's dead... Or going to die._

_And I killed him._

A green lock of hair flopped into his eyes, which had started to tear up. Mark didn't recognize it at first, but soon remembered that his hair was not green. It was supposed to be red.

He lifted an arm to feel his hair, and realized with a jolt how pale his arms were, as well as lean and slightly hairy. Numerous bracelets adorned his wrists, and a solid colored tattoo ran down his forearm.

So... he wasn't Mark? He was rather befuddled for a moment, but it didn't take long to figure out what was happening.

He wasn't seeing through his own eyes. He was seeing through Jack's.

Just then, Mark was suctioned back to the real world. He was standing next to Felix once more, and Jack's sitting stiffly upon the couch in front of him. He felt tainted. Dirty. But an incredible amount of terror had decided to creel up on his shoulders.

Dark's chuckle echoed through his mind. _You can thank me for that little premonition. I thought you'd find it enlightening._

Mark clenched his teeth. "You son of a bitch... What's happening to Jack?" _That's up to you to figure out. The real question is, what are you going to do about it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for not updating until now! I really should've planned out this story so things would've gone faster... whoops.
> 
> Also, I started writing this story when Mark had red hair (what, R&R is really that old, god). Just a reminder so y'all don't get confused when/if I mention his hair. Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate you for sticking with this story through all dem chapters. Thanks for readin'!


End file.
